Propinquity
by Keegan Paige
Summary: Hotch and Prentiss slowly but surely realize how close they are...and how close they could be. Some post case interaction between our favorite agents.


Authors note: Wow. First off, let me say that this is an old piece of writing (5 years almost to the date, to be exact) that I recently discovered and wanted to share. It's my first fic for Hotch/Prentiss and I honestly have no idea where this story may go but I wanted to try it out. I appreciate any reviews.

Warnings: None at this point. When I wrote this, I guess you could say the references to the 100th episode were spoilers, but that doesn't apply any more. Small mentions of Haley and Elle though.

Here goes nothing...

* * *

On most nights Supervisory Special Agent Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner was situated firmly at his desk, refusing to leave until at least a goodly amount of his paperwork was finished. Tonight was no exception. It had been another ravaging case; the ones that involved children always seemed to tug at their heartstrings more firmly than others. It wasn't that adult victims didn't mean as much, it was just that children, with their large eyes and trusting souls so innocent always made the case a little harder to handle. Most of the team had wanted to finish their reports so they could get the images out of their heads. Hotch knew it didn't change a thing; the vision of small bodies and crying parents realizing that the futures they had planned out would never come to be wouldn't simply leave their minds because they finished their reports early. It would just be another one of the haunting memories courtesy of the job.

"Hotch?" The voice coming from his doorway jeered him out of his depressing thoughts. Emily Prentiss stood there, file folder in hand with a look of apprehension on her face. Hotch gave a quick nod allowing her entrance. She paused just for a second before walking up to his desk , extending the folder.

"Is that your report on the—" Hotch faltered for a second. There were so many names that he wasn't sure what to label the case. Emily, knowing what he was contemplating, filled in quickly, "yes." Hotch reached out grasping the free end of the folder but was surprised when it wasn't released freely by Emily.

"Prentiss," He questioned in a slightly exacerbated tone.

"Sir," Emily responded with a questionable expression.

Hotch allowed himself to blink slowly and take a deep breath. He knew what she was waiting for but he wasn't sure he could let himself share his emotions, especially not tonight. It wasn't that he couldn't trust her, far from it actually. It was the idea that if he opened up to her once it would make him more vulnerable to do so in the future and that could be a dangerous thing. It could make him dependent on her, among other things, and he couldn't risk that. Enough women Hotch had relied upon in various fashions had been taken from him by violent circumstances. First there was Elle, whom he'd come to trust was all too quickly swept away by the same rage that their Unsubs were often consumed with, leading her down a destructive path that lead to her departure. His softly spoken, "I'll miss you too," echoed in his head as she walked out of the BAU and his life without looking back.

Next it had been Haley when she asked for a divorce. Hotch knew he hadn't been the model husband (or father) but he honestly thought after all the time they'd been together that she knew how he operated. He expected her to be there when he arrived home, even if she was fast asleep. First the divorce then…then she was gone forever—removed from this world by the hands of a ruthless killer whose name would remain with him always. Rationally he knew there was nothing more he could have done to save her, but the guilt was so heavy, surging through him that it was rooted in his heart and soul. Sometimes he felt as if his conscience would never be clear, which only worsened his feelings tonight. Tonight he'd pick up his son, unlike the many parents who had been sitting in the BAU previously, waiting for word on whether or not their child was coming home.

As Hotch continued to hold half of the folder, he opened his eyes and looked away before meeting Emily's stare. "Emily," he said, his tone much softer than before, "I—I'll be fine." He was answering her unspoken question.

"I never said you wouldn't." Emily bit her lip before continuing, knowing she might be heading towards unwelcome territory, "Hotch, you know everyone of us would be willing to listen if you ever asked." It was obvious that she meant in general, since all the rest had gone home long before. Finally relinquishing her hold on the other half of the folder, she moved to the side of his desk so she could lean slightly on the edge.

"I know," Hotch replied simply, not giving much away as he turned in his chair to face her, dropping the folder on his desk, "and I sincerely appreciate it, but it really isn't necessary. You've been on this team long enough to see that we continue to move on, regardless of how unfortunate the cases may be. And that's not because we have team therapy sessions." He was deflecting to the best of his ability, which tonight was suffering severely. His walls were damaged and he wasn't sure how much more he'd be able to handle.

"I'm not talking about therapy. I'm talking about you having all of us willing to offer our ears, shoulders, anything without a second thought."

Hotch inwardly sighed. He wasn't going to get out of this. Not this time. And of all people, it just had to be her. He was about to respond when Emily added, "We wouldn't think any less of you, if that's was you're afraid of."

"I'm not concerned about that, nor am I worried about them relating what I say to anyone else."

"Them?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said 'them.' Does that mean I'm excluded from your assertions?" Emily crossed her arms and tilted her head to give him a sideways glance. She knew what he had meant so she wasn't angry, but she realized that this would give her an opening.

Unbeknownst to him that Emily wasn't hurt by his statement, Hotch realized that he was losing ground fast. If he had to apologize to one more person tonight, he wouldn't be able to handle it. Saying "I'm sorry," is a terrible thing to have to say to people who had just held hope that their child would be walking through the door to greet them. Instead they were greeted with war torn looking agents and a medical examiner.

Hotch answered with a quick, "It's not what it sounded like."

As they looked at one another, Emily was formulating her course of action. However, just before she was about to respond, a new figure standing at the doorway interrupted them with a slight smirk upon their face announcing, "Well, this seems a bit familiar."


End file.
